I KNOW what you’re thinking. Resurrectionists! Body-snatchers once more at work in old London town! Had the good professor (and his erstwhile colleague — for a search of Sash’s tomb the next day revealed the same result) been made away with by wall-eyed, whisky-breathed anatomists to be displayed and skewered at the Whitechapel Hospital? Well, no. Very probably not. At least, I shouldn’t have thought so. This was the twentieth century, after all.
No, it seemed altogether more probable that Tom Bowler Esq. lay behind this bizarre enterprise. The Belsize Park premises were immediately raided but somehow the jolly mortician had avoided the Domestics and stolen away like a street-Arab in the night. I was sure I knew where to run him to earth and booked passage on the next departing vessel to Naples without waiting to hear whether Miracle had worked his charms on old Quibble. I would leave at once. Well, almost at once. There was still the little matter of Miracle’s summer ball. Business, of course, as I needed to confirm my appointment with Miracle, and perhaps a little pleasure.
My friend’s parties were something of a legend. In fact, Miracle’s gorgeous Belgravia house had been the scene of my poking of Avril Pugg the previous December. Christmas is a time for giving, after all. I found I was looking forward to this ball immensely. It would be a welcome distraction from the problem in hand but I would also be escorting the delectable Bella Pok and could impress her with statements of the «I fear I must away to the Continent this very night!» variety.
There had been no time for another drawing lesson but we had been in constant communication via letter and cable. I had broached the ball and she had been delighted to accept. Might I be permitted to call on her? No, she would prefer to call at Downing Street. Would eight o’clock suit?
I spent much of the late afternoon selecting a flower for my lapel. Joe Chamberlain had made orchid-growing awfully fashionable and the delicate purple flower I selected as a button-hole set off my pale complexion most appealingly. Not quite ready to admit I was still without a servant of any kind, I opened the door to Bella myself — a delirious vision in crimson — turned her round immediately and helped her back into the cab.
As we clattered along I could see how thrilled she was at the prospect of the party. Her eyes blazed and her expression was almost wild as she turned to me.
«Will I not be awfully out of place, Mr Box?»
I took her gloved hand. «My dear, you will outshine them all.»
«And Mr Miracle. What is he like? They say he’s very handsome.»
«No doubt they do. You’ll like him, I’m sure.»
Curiously, though, when we arrived at Miracle’s house, of our host there was no sign. Instead, the party seemed to be under the direction of Lady Constance Tutt-Haffenschafft, a friend of Miracle’s and quite the old hand at throwing a function like this.
Lady Constance — of Austrian stock and the widow of someone awfully grand in trans-Atlantic telegraphy — was one of London’s more unusual hostesses. She was a genuinely warm and congenial old soul who had survived the Tay Bridge disaster and, as a consequence, had developed a morbid fear of railway engines. To everyone’s eternal embarrassment, she was wont to impersonate steam trains at the most inopportune moments. It was like Miracle, who didn’t give a fig for convention, to take her under his wing when the rest of society had shunned her.
Glittering with jewels, Lady Constance barrelled towards us, swathed in taffeta. «Ach! How delightful to see you, Lucifer!» she gushed. «Do you know where young Miracle is hiding? He is not here! Choo! Choo! I arrive early, yes? To help in the preparations, but where is the boy? I do not know. So—Choo! Choo! — I have to take charge! But who is this? Who is this flower?»
«Lady Constance Tutt-Haffenschafft,» I said. «Miss Bella Pok.»
«Miss Pok! Enchanted. En—choo-choo-chanted.»
Bella stepped back a little, blinking in surprise. Lady Constance gave a quick little smile. «You are in your choice of companion most fortunate, my dear Lucifer,» she enthused in her guttural croak.
«And I in mine,» said Bella, glancing in my direction.
I glowed with pleasure.
«I had no idea you would be accompanied,» said Lady C, teeth glinting. «Pok. An unusual name. Choo! Choo! You have come far?»
«Tonight, no. But I am Dutch by birth.»
«I trust you did not come to London by one of these steam trains?»
Bella shook her head. «No. By boat.»
«Thank God! The train is the devil’s play-thing! Even now I hear them! Chuff! Chuff!»
Lady Constance pressed her hand to her forehead for a moment then exhaled as though steam were forcing its way out of her big nostrils. The moment, it seemed, had passed.
«Forgive me. Now do go off and get yourself a little drink. I’m afraid I must make free with Mr Box for a moment.»
I bowed to Bella and, with an amused smile, she plunged off into the ballroom, soon lost to sight amongst the miasma of silken gowns and black cut-aways.
«You are very naughty,» said Lady Constance, pinching my arm.
«I am?»
«You know very well that your being London’s most alluring bachelor is the principal reason why so many unattached young ladies come to Christopher’s parties. Choo! You are meant to come alone.»
She giggled and it ran like a tremor through her portly frame.
I patted the old sow’s hand indulgently. «I am still very much unattached, my dear Lady Constance and, besides, you know there is only one woman in the world for me.»
I gave her the kind of saucy look that would keep her enthralled for another twelvemonth. Eyelids fluttering bashfully, she batted her fan lightly against the silk-faced lapels of my suit. «Ach! You flatterer! Choo! Choo! You know I have purchased the most glorious new gown. Perhaps I could sit for you again…?»
This was good news. I had painted her perhaps a dozen times, all for excellent remuneration. During our sittings, for some reason, the railway mania abated and she fell into glorious, blissful silence.
Looking towards the crowd in the ballroom, Lady Constance took my arm and began leading me in. «But you have done wonderfully, Lucifer. This girl Pok. She is like a flame. So beautiful!»
«I must concur with you there.»
«And you are fond of her, yes? I could see it at once when the two of you stood together. I must have every detail! I am starved of gossip! Huff! Now, we must hurry and disengage your Miss Bella from those old goats in there before her virtue… choo!… is entirely compromised.»
The ballroom was hung about with paper lanterns and summer flowers. Chattering faces, reflected to the infinite by the huge quantity of gilt mirrors, looked out at me as I sauntered towards Bella. I stepped across the threshold and the old thrill lit up my innards. What did these blandly respectable folk know of me? Could they tell that beneath my crisp white gloves were fingernails that had so recently scrabbled in grave-dirt? Could they guess for even a moment that I was about to embark on a perilous mission that might save their very way of life? Of course not, but what did that matter? At that moment, the guilty pleasure that comes from leading a double life coursed through me like salts.
I caught sight of Bella once more.
She sat: a splendid curl of long scarlet silk, wrapped about with a stole of Arctic fox. An ugly young pup with unwashed hair hanging to his collar stood to her right, jabbering away.
She gave a little start as I appeared and clicked my heels.
«Bella,» I said.
The greasy fellow swung towards me with a questioning look.
«Do forgive me,» I said. «Lucifer Box. I have come to rescue my friend Miss Pok from your miserable attentions. Shall we, my dear?»
I extended the crook of my elbow. She took it and rose with a small smile, leaving her beau blustering in fury.
«You are rather a terrible person, Lucifer,» she said.
«You’re the second person to say that this evening.»
«And certain to have a bad end,» she added.
«It comes of having a bad beginning. You didn’t need rescuing?»
«Of course! He was so dreary and had breath like a spaniel.»
«Well, it was my duty. And my right. You are, after all, my partner for the evening.»
She glanced towards me and the chandeliers glittered in her violet eyes. «Indeed.»
«Then let’s have some cham and then a dance. Quickly, now, I can see Lady Chuff-chuff heading our way and the band have struck up a polka.»
So, in the sweet heat of the evening, we whiled away a very pleasant hour or so, conversation and blood quickened by Mumm. Bella’s gaze was locked on mine, and as we swirled effortlessly around the ballroom, I fervently wished myself free of all responsibilities. Must the dread burden of saving the Empire always fall on me?
I was standing with my back to the room when I saw Bella glance over my shoulder. A little shiver prickled up my spine and I turned and saw a queer-looking fellow standing at the hearth.
He was a very tall, barrel-chested man in spotless evening dress, standing with legs apart, thumbs tucked into the pockets of his white waistcoat, nodding and occasionally smiling tightly at some pleasantry. Thick, oily curls, streaked with white sprouted from his massive head. Perched upon his prominent nose was a pair of curious, indigo-hued spectacles. He seemed ill at ease and was constantly flipping his watch from his waistcoat.
Almost as though he sensed my looking at him, the great head flicked upwards, the light turning his spectacles a flashing white.
«Good Lord,» I said. «Who is that?»
«That is the Duce Tiepolo,» said Lady Constance, appearing at my side with further champagne. «I met him once before in Biarritz. I had heard he was in town.»
«Who?» I glanced almost furtively at the imposing figure by the fireplace.
«He is an Italian duke,» said Bella. «I have read about him in the society columns.»
«One of the discoveries—choo! — of our oh-so-dear Mr Miracle,» trilled Lady Constance. «How he dotes on us stray dogs.»
«Indeed,» I said. «That’s why he likes me so much. This one doesn’t look like a stray dog, though.»
«Oh, he is, to Christopher, like royalty, my dear boy. Tiepolo is the last of a dying scion. His people, they fought, oh most bravely against the Garibaldi fellow back in the sixties—chuff! — but his family were all sent into exile when the… what do you call it?… the Rissole… the Risorgan…»
«Risorgimento,» said Bella softly.
«Yes,» said Lady Constance. «When they came in.»
«He strikes quite a noble figure, does he not?» observed my beautiful companion.
«Oh dear,» I mused. «Another one with a penchant for hard-luck cases.»
«You would like to meet him, yes?»
«Why not,» I said.
So we were led over and into the presence of the great man.
«Your Grace…»
The Duce turned slowly towards us, the deep lines at the corners of his eyes creasing together.
«Aha! Lady Constance! How delightful!»
The train-fearer was delighted to be remembered. After an exchange of pleasantries, I stepped forward and he inclined his head slightly at the sight of me. It was like being observed by some great patient snake. The lenses of the indigo spectacles prevented even a hint of his expression from being visible.
«This is Mr Lucifer Box,» said Lady Constance. «The famous painter.»
«Oh, you flatter me,» I oiled. «Your Grace.»
I bowed and clicked my heels. He did likewise.
«Tiepolo,» I said. «I’m afraid I do not know the province…»
«One of the more ancient duchies,» he said, with a smile. The voice was quiet but assured, like a great and well-maintained engine using but a fraction of its true power.
He turned to Bella.
«Miss Bella Pok,» announced Lady Constance.
He took her hand in his great paw without hesitation. «I’m afraid, your Grace,» she cooed, «that I know very little of the history of your country…»
«Oh, my unhappy country!» said the Duce, raising his hands palms outward and smiling in mock-anguish. «But now, here, is not the time to be remembering old sorrows. Perhaps if you would do me the honour of dining with me…?»
Bella’s eyes flashed.
I moved with the speed of a jealous panther. If you’ve ever seen one, you’ll know. «Your Grace,» I interrupted, «I would consider it a great honour if you would consent to sit for a portrait.»
The Duce’s mouth pinched in displeasure. «This is impossible, alas. I am leaving most soon for the Continent. Besides, a painting…» He gave a little shrug. «I was saying to our friend Mr Miracle — where is he by the way? — is not painting most… old-fashioned?»
Lady Constance leant forward. «The Duce is a photographic enthusiast.»
«Is he, by George?» I said, nettled. «Well, in that case I should hate to bother him with such a trifle as a portrait in oils.»
Bella shot me an odd look.
«You are going to the Continent, you say, your Grace?» I said airily.
«Yes.»
«Back to Italy?»
The great man’s face darkened.
I put my fingers to my lips as though to hush them. «Of course not! How silly of me! They wouldn’t take too kindly to seeing anyone from the old days, would they? Where do you spend your exile?»
«Well, if you will excuse me, Lady Constance,» he began. «Miss Pok…»
«I have myself some little knowledge of those days,» I interrupted. The champagne was, I fear, beginning to tell. «My father told me all about it. Italy was in a parlous state back then, Bella. Wasn’t really Italy at all, to speak of. Ruled by the Frogs, the Spanish, even the ruddy Austrians — saving your presence, Lady C.»
The Duce gazed levelly at me. «It was a troubled time. But we could have survived as we were. If not for Signor Giuseppe Garibaldi…»
«You may know the biscuit,» I said in an undertone to Bella. «He pulled the country together, didn’t he, under King What’s-his-name. Yes. I’m off there tomorrow myself, as a matter of fact. I’ll send them your regards, hmm?»
The Duce’s lips set into a grim line. «You will excuse me. I must… that is, I…»
He seemed genuinely put out. Making a little bow to the ladies, he melted away into the crowd.
«Well!» said Bella.
«Hmm?»
«I thought you were rather rude to that poor wanderer.»
I flashed a cheeky smile at Lady Constance and she, giggling girlishly, waved back at me. Then I took Bella by the elbow and steered her towards the balcony. «My dear Bella, these pompous so-called aristos are all alike. It won’t do him a bit of harm to be reminded that he’s the ex-Duke of an ex-duchy. He’ll go home and kick his valet in all probability, but that’s scarcely our concern. Now, I suggest a little air to clear away the fug of his rhetoric. Besides, I found that I didn’t take to the idea at all of someone else dining with you.»
She cocked her head to one side impishly and gave me the benefit of her most devastating smile.
We walked through the French windows and out on to the warm terrace. Balustraded steps led down on either side to Miracle’s vast gardens.
«It’s very beautiful in the moonlight,» said Bella, gazing out at the hedges and fountains.
«Mmm,» I concurred. «By day this place is a riot of colour. I once painted Lady Constance against the bougainvillaea over there.»
«Did she like it?»
«She was chuff-chuffed.»
Bella giggled, then shivered a little and I slipped out of my coat.
«Allow me.»
She took the coat and draped it about her shoulders. «Perhaps you would care to paint me one day?»
«You wouldn’t prefer the Duke to photograph you?»
«There’s no beauty in chemicals and paper, Lucifer,» she murmured.
«Indeed not. I would… I would consider it a very great honour to paint you, Bella. How would you like it done?»
«Perhaps I could be Jeanne d’Arc… or Helen,» she said, thrusting her shoulders back and lifting up that fine, proud head.
«In Troy? Or being ravished by Zeus? Oh no, that was Leda wasn’t it?»
I moved just a fraction closer to her. A tiny pulse was beating in her throat.
«I think I should like that,» she said quietly.
«To be painted or to be…»
«Ravished?» She laughed her charming, tinkling laugh. She did not move away as my arm brushed hers. «Zeus was fond of all that, was he not? Forever appearing as swans or showers of gold…»
«I know so little about you,» I said suddenly, «but I do not wish to pry.»
«Pry away.»
«You really are Miss Pok?»
«I really am. I was engaged once. To a count, would you believe?»
I looked at her in the starlight. Her eyes glittered like fragments of amethyst. I could believe princes, kings and emperors might lose their wits over her.
«I must confess that I have posed for a portrait before.»
«Oh yes?»
«Yes. The Count. He paid for a portrait.»
«How did it come out?»
«Indifferently.»
«And what about the Count? How did he come out?»
«Equally indifferently.»
«My dear,» I began, taking her hand, «I am distressed beyond measure to have to go away.»
«To Italy?»
I nodded.
«Business or pleasure?»
I looked down and contemplated her delicate, gloved hand. «Oh, business only. Nothing but the most vital business would take me away from you at this juncture.»
«You would rather stay in London?»
«I would rather stay with you,» I said quietly. «And continue your… instruction.»
I reached out and took her hand in mine. She turned, the curve of her cheek illumined like a crescent moon. Her lips parted and I could feel the warmth of her breath.
All at once, there came the crunch of running footsteps on the gravel below and a figure lolloped towards the terrace. Both of us turned at the sight of him, his handsome face flushed, his cravat all askew. It was Christopher Miracle!
He clattered up the steps and stopped, swaying slightly, when he clapped eyes on me.
«Box!» he cried.
«Miracle! Where the devil have you been? Lady Constance has been manfully holding the fort»
«Thank God you are here! You must help me! Dear God, it is terrible! Terrible!»
I laid a hand upon his arm. «My dear Christopher! What is it? What has happened?»
He shot a glance at Bella.
«Miss Pok,» I said calmly, «perhaps it would be better if you returned to the party»
She shook her head. «I would far rather be of assistance, if I can.»
Miracle gripped my arm. «She’s vanished and they think I have something to do with it!»
«Who has vanished?» asked Bella with a concerned frown.
«Come, Christopher. Let’s get you somewhere warm. Bella, would you check there’s no one observing?»
We slipped him back through into the ballroom and, by sticking close to the heavy curtains, managed to steer him into a panelled corridor without anyone seeing us.
I tried a door and we found ourselves in a darkened study.
Bella lit a lamp as I settled Miracle into a chair and pushed a tumbler of Scotch into his shaking hands.
The glass clattered against his teeth. «They say I was the last person to see her. Now she is missing and — the police don’t say it but they suspect some foul play I’m sure of it!»
«Miracle! Calm yourself! Who has gone missing?»
He looked at me with a puzzled expression. «Have I not said? Why, Mrs Knight, of course. Mrs Midsomer Knight.»
«Who?»
«The woman I told you of. Remember? You must remember.»
«What, the veiled creature?»
Miracle nodded, his head drooping between defeated shoulders.
«Come along, sir,» said Bella gently. «Drink up and tell us all about it.»
Miracle nodded and rubbed his tired face. «Yesterday. It was time for my usual drawing class. I arrived early and so, for the first time, did she. Mrs Knight, that is. That spectre of a husband of hers was just dropping her off.»
I nodded. «And then?»
«I escorted her up the steps of the Institute. She said her husband had some urgent business out of town and so had brought her before her usual time, was this acceptable? I said of course it was, as long as she didn’t mind busying herself until the other ladies arrived.»
«What time was this?»
«Nine-thirty. As soon as we were inside, she excused herself and disappeared into the… er conveniences. And that was the last I saw of her, I swear it!»
«She didn’t come back into your room?»
«I went about my work and forgot all about her! At ten, the other ladies came. The Misses Fullalove were at each other’s throats. My mind was elsewhere…»
«Did none of the others notice her absence?» I asked.
He shook his head. «No. At least, none of them remarked upon it.»
«And when did the business begin to assume a more sinister aspect?» said Bella.
«Well, at the end of the lesson when the husband arrived. Of course, I had no idea where she might be. There was the most frightful row and the police were called. A glove was then found, unquestionably belonging to Mrs Knight. A blood-stained glove, Lucifer. In the ladies’ conveniences!»
«And the peelers suspect foul play?»
«We were alone in the building for half an hour before the others arrived. Knight himself saw us on the steps of the Institute. I don’t know where the devil she is but I had nothing to do with it. God help me! I am sworn on my honour not to leave town.»
I exhaled noisily. «Well, this is a pickle.»
«They’ve questioned me over and over and only recently released me. I have nothing to tell them!»
«But they haven’t arrested you!»
«Not yet. But it can only be»
There was some kind of commotion in the corridor beyond. Lady Constance’s voice chuffed in indignation, then there were footsteps on the carpet. Bella looked at me with a fearful expression as we heard first one, then another door being opened and then firmly shut.
Miracle shuddered, his eyes wide with terror.
The door to the study opened admitting a lively little ball of a man with great shaving brushes of hair projecting from his ears and nose. The rest of his face was concealed beneath a derby hat and a pair of massive, old-fashioned Piccadilly weepers.
«Please forgive this intrusion, sir,» he said, looking at me, then at Bella. «Miss. Inspector Flush. Scotland Yard.»
He removed his hat and threw a very serious look at my friend Christopher.
«Mr Miracle, I’m afraid I shall have to ask you to come with me to the Yard. Certain… developments have come to light.»
«Developments?»
I held up a hand. «Just a moment, Inspector. Before you haul my friend off on some spurious charge, had we not best get the facts in order? Mr Miracle was in the process of describing the events to us. You can surely show him the courtesy of allowing him to finish.»
Flush gave a triple-chinned shrug. «That is a courtesy we should be glad to extend — at the station.»
«What developments?» cried Miracle with some asperity.
With slightly more drama than was necessary (I liked him at once), Flush removed his hat, and held it to his breast. «We’ve located the missing woman.»
«Safe and well, I trust,» said Bella.
«No, miss,» said the inspector. «Dead.»